Warrior’s Redemption Read online

  Striding purposely toward the great hall, he reached his destination only to realize that he had no clue where Dani might be this time of morning. The hall itself was unusually quiet, with not a single person to be found.

  No one tending the fires or working in the room at all.

  He continued on, his footsteps on the smooth stone the only sound, heading through the small door in the back and down the dark maze of hallways leading to the storage rooms and kitchens.

  Stranger than the eerie quiet of the great hall was the scene in the kitchen, with the better part of the women who worked there gathered at the back door, all jostling for position as if to watch some sort of great sport.

  His sinking stomach alerted him it would be Dani at the center of that spectacle even before he pushed his way through the women and out the door.

  “I dinna think I’d live to see the day when Cook herself would be skimming the ale,” the woman ahead of him confided to another at her side.

  “Or carrying her own risen loaves to the ovens, aye?” the second returned, to the vigorous nodding of the first. “There they are!”

  Two figures emerged from the alehouse, heads huddled together in conversation. Dani and the head cook.

  “What’s going on here?” he asked at last, his curiosity no longer waiting to be satisfied.

  “Laird Malcolm!” The woman who had been speaking earlier jumped, obviously surprised to see him here, and surrounded by the women of the kitchen at that. “We tried to discourage her, but she’d no hear of it, that one.”

  She nodded her head so hard he wondered if she might not injure her neck.

  “Discourage her from . . .”

  He had no time to pursue his questions. Dani had spotted him.

  “Malcolm!” She hurried toward him, a radiant smile on her flour-smudged face, two clay pots tightly clutched in her arms like battle prizes. “They use the skimmings from the ale for their leavening agent.”

  She babbled, so overpleased with her discovery, her eyes glistened with happiness.

  “What have you done to yer hair?”

  It appeared to be wadded onto her head somehow, with a stick protruding from a spray of golden curls.

  “I stuck it up out of the way.” She shook her head, dismissing his question. “The whole concept is brilliant in its simplicity. I should have guessed. It totally explains the tang I tasted in the bread. Here I was thinking sourdough. I can’t believe I wasn’t able to identify it.”

  “I’ll take those, lass.” The old cook reached for the pots Dani carried, tucking them close to her chest. “You’ve had yerself a busy day. Best you go grab a bite to eat now, aye?”

  “I am hungry,” Dani agreed, her wide grin belying any discomfort she might have felt.

  “Lady Danielle and I will adjourn to the gardens. Have one of the serving girls bring something to her there. And send along a wrap as well.”

  Though the weather had cleared, there was still a bite of chill in the air.

  “Aye, Laird Malcolm. Right away.” The cook agreed with a dip of her head before hurrying inside, shuffling all the gawking women ahead of her like a mother hen with her chicks.

  “Thank you, Ada!” Dani called out as she took the arm he offered, allowing him to direct her toward the gardens.

  “Is that Cook’s name? I don’t believe I’ve ever heard it used before.” No one had ever dared address the woman as anything other than Cook, so far as he knew, not even in the days when she’d served in his father’s home.

  “We’ve had this discussion before, haven’t we? You really need to get over the whole call-you-by-your-job-not-your-name thing.”

  Yes. He should have remembered. If there was anyone out there who could convince Cook to use her given name, it didn’t surprise him that it would be Dani.

  He led her to the garden, bidding her to take a seat on the bench in the corner while he relaxed on the ground, his back against a tree.

  “So.” She had clasped her hands tightly together in her lap, looking everywhere around her except at him. “What do you grow here in your garden?”

  He didn’t really know. “Whatever is needed in the kitchens, I suppose. Herbs, greens.”

  It was impossible to tell now, with the first frosts of autumn already past. All that remained were dead brown stalks and stems.

  She turned to look at him at last, a hint of a smile in her eyes. “You’re more forager than farmer, huh?”

  “So it would seem. And you? What were you doing in the kitchens so early?”

  At this she laughed, as if he’d said something amusing. “Early is the only time to be in a kitchen if you want to find out how things get done. And if I’m going to stay in this time, as Elesyria says, I need to learn how things are done.”

  “You’ll no be working in the kitchens, Dani. You’ve my word on that.”

  Since she’d been taken from her own world and sent here because of him, he’d never see her spend her life as a servant. He’d marry her himself before he’d allow that.

  The thought flittered through his mind, shocking him even as it did.

  He’d sworn he’d never marry again, never be responsible for another woman. But, as he already seemed to be responsible for her, he could think of worse things than to spend his life with a woman such as this.

  She leaned down toward him, lowering her voice almost to a whisper. “That man of your brother’s is watching us. You know that, right?”

  Rauf. He had expected as much when he’d left Dermid with Patrick.

  Flour smudged her nose and cheek and, this close, it felt only natural to wipe it away. He reached out a finger, stroking it down her nose, cleaning the powder from her skin.

  The dark centers of her eyes enlarged like those of a doe he’d happened upon in the forest and he was sure he heard her breath catch.

  With his thumb, he gently stroked the fine dust from her cheek, his fingers resting at the base of her jaw where her pulse beat against his skin like a drummer in the heat of battle.

  Before he knew it, he was on his knees, his mouth lightly covering hers. She made no move to pull away and he deepened the kiss, his tongue running across the contours of her lips, sampling the taste of her.

  She might have groaned, but he couldn’t be sure; the rhythmic pounding of his own blood echoed in his ears, driving out all sound.

  All sound save that of a throat clearing as a young maid arrived with a basket of food.

  Dani launched herself away from him, back up onto the bench she’d somehow slid off of, her hands splayed across her pink cheeks.

  Oh, yes, at this very moment he could think of many things worse than spending his life with a woman like this.

  WHAT THE HELL had just happened?

  Dani ran her hands over her hot cheeks before lacing her fingers together in her lap.

  One minute she’d been warning Malcolm about that creepy groomsman spying on them, and the next she’d been about to eat his face.

  Good Lord. When the Faeries had transported her over, she must have left her self-control on the other side. At least any self-control where Malcolm MacDowylt was concerned.

  He accepted a basket from the young woman who had—thankfully!—interrupted them, and spread out a selection of bread and cheese on the bench next to her. When he leaned in close to wrap a plaid around her shoulders, her heart beat so loud she was amazed he couldn’t hear it.

  Perhaps he did. The lopsided grin he wore had been put there by something.

  The breeze blew a curl across her face and she realized that somewhere along the way the stick she’d used to hold up her hair had failed her.

  Probably about the same time her good sense had.

  She lifted a shaking hand to remove the stick she’d threaded through her hair, wincing when the bark tangled.

  “Allow me.” Malcolm stood and leaned over her, carefully separating the hair from around the stick.

  Only when he stepped away, once again seating him
self on the ground with his back against the tree, was she able to fully fill her lungs.

  “Our watcher seems to have disappeared. Perhaps the serving girl frightened him away.”

  Or perhaps he’d just had an eyeful.

  Which would have been Malcolm’s intent.

  Dani wanted to slap a hand to her forehead. What a dunce! It was as if she’d completely forgotten they were trying to convince Dermid that they were an item. No wonder he’d kissed her right after she’d told him they were being watched.

  And here she’d allowed herself to think he might feel . . .

  She seriously needed to get a grip. After all, the whole idea of using her as a distraction had been her idea to begin with. She must have spent too long breathing in those fumes from the vats of ale this morning.

  Hopefully, he’d assumed she was acting too. But just in case he hadn’t, she needed to keep it light and breezy now.

  “Do you want some of this?” She held out a piece of bread, willing her hand to stop shaking. “Sitting out here with our meal is just like having a picnic on a date, isn’t it?”

  He refused her offer with a shake of his head, his hands busy with his knife and a small stick. “Picnic?” His brow wrinkled in confusion as his eyes darted up to hers and back down to the idle whittling of his hand.

  “Picnic. It’s when you pack up some food to take with you to eat outside. For enjoyment.”

  “Hmmm,” he responded, as if he were trying to understand the concept. “And for this you set a meeting. A date, you called it.”

  “Meeting? Not exactly.” Even though the Faerie Magic had done something so that she could communicate with people in this place and time, there were still many differences in their understanding of individual words. “Where I come from, a date is when two people spend time together to help determine if they really like each other. Sort of a bonding experience. To help you find the person you want to marry. Or just to have a good time.”

  “And this . . .” He lifted his chin, motioning around them. “This is what a date is like?”

  “More or less.” It was certainly uncomfortable enough to qualify as first-date territory.

  “Well then . . .” Malcolm pushed up to his feet, straightening his plaid and replacing the small knife he’d used into the bag he wore at his waist. “I’ve work to do today, lass. Work that’ll no get done as long as I sit and enjoy yer company. Here.” He held out the stick he’d been carving. “To catch up yer hair. Without the bark to snag and pull.”

  She accepted the token, surprised that he’d thought to do something like that for her. “Thank you.”

  He shrugged and started off, stopping a few feet away and turning to look back. “I propose we picnic another date in the spring. With the plants coming up. So you can see what grows here, aye? Since yer curious about it.”

  Picnic another date? She held back the laughter that threatened. Laughter that had nothing to do with his mangling of her terminology and everything to do with the intent behind the words.

  “I would love to picnic another date with you in the spring.”

  No question but that it was she who put the smile on his face that time. With a nod of his head, he turned and strode away, leaving her to stare after him, even after he’d turned the corner.

  “It’s lovely to see the two of you coming together so nicely. Though of course it couldn’t be any other way.” Elesyria wandered into the garden and dropped to sit next to Dani. “Not that I was eavesdropping, you understand.”

  “There’s no coming together,” Dani denied, irritated at having been caught staring after the man. “And you were too eavesdropping.”

  Elesyria shrugged, her face a picture of happiness. “Perhaps I was. But you can hardly blame me. True love is hard to resist, and for a Faerie? It’s like honey and bees. Like fish and water. We’re drawn to it.”

  “True love?” Dani laughed aloud. “I’m afraid you have your wires crossed, my friend. There’s nothing going on between us. Just the pretend thing I offered to do to help him with his brother. I already told you all about that.”

  “Danielle.” Elesyria made a little clucking noise with her tongue. “Perhaps you can fool yourself, girl, but you’ve no hope of fooling me. I sense how you feel. And even if I didn’t, I asked the Goddess to send Malcolm’s SoulMate and here you are.”

  The Faerie’s admission, so blatant, so matter-of-fact, weakened Dani’s knees, making her grateful she hadn’t attempted to stand.

  “That was what you meant when you told him I’d been sent here for his benefit.”

  Elesyria, poking through the leftovers in the basket, nodded her head. “Exactly. I’m still boggled that it took you both so long to realize it. As a result of his attempt to help my daughter, Malcolm deserved to be rewarded. You wanted what was intended for your life. Nothing is more intended or a better reward to the Fae than that they should find their other half. Their SoulMate. It’s what we all want most. And you, lucky girl, you’ve had it given to you.”

  Dani didn’t feel very lucky. Though what Elesyria shared with her certainly explained why she felt the way she did, it didn’t explain Malcolm’s lack of reciprocation.

  “Maybe you should explain all this to Malcolm. I’m not sure he’s feeling it.”

  Now it was Elesyria’s turn to laugh. “Oh my dear, he’s . . . how did you say it? ‘Feeling it.’ Most definitely feeling it.”

  For the first time in days, Dani felt as if a weight had been lifted off her chest.

  She could find a place for herself here. Things weren’t really so different. She’d proven that to herself this morning in the kitchens when she’d made friends with Ada and helped with the day’s bread baking. The moment she’d laid hands on that dough, she’d felt like she was where she belonged. She’d even offered to share her favorite recipes with the old cook, in trade for help in figuring out their conversions into current ingredients.

  And now Malcolm. Learning that he felt about her the same way she felt about him?

  It was like the old television commercials had claimed.

  Priceless.

  Seventeen

  AS YOU DIRECTED, Eric has established the encampment on the site where Isabella’s cabin stood. There’s fresh water and natural shelter, all within a half day’s ride of the castle.”

  Malcolm nodded his approval of the actions taken by Patrick and their captain of the guard.

  “Have Eric bring their senior men here to meet with us for a final review of our plans.”

  Plans that fell far short of satisfaction. Too many lives at risk for his taste. He would go forward, but stay vigilant for any opportunity that might present itself that would allow him to avoid open warfare.

  Patrick waited at the door, eyes on the floor, hands behind his back, every fiber of his being radiating an unspoken dilemma.

  “Something troubles you, brother?”

  The pause before he spoke, before he even looked up, concerned Malcolm as much as any words his brother might have to say.

  “In all the years I’ve followed yer lead, I’ve never questioned yer decisions and you’ve never failed to deliver. You’ve taken us from vagabond warriors to where we are today, with a home and a people to call our own.”

  “But?”

  The unspoken word hung in the air between them.

  “Our timing on this is wrong, Colm. We place our army at a grave disadvantage with winter so close at hand. Once more I’d ask that you reconsider holding off until spring. Should the snows overtake us in the mountains, we risk losing many men.”

  They risked losing many men even if they reached Tordenet Castle ahead of any snow. Unless he could figure out another way before the battles began.

  “We canna wait, Paddy. It’s what Torquil will expect of us. You ken his powers and his strength as well as I do. Our best hope is to arrive with surprise on our side.”

  “As you say.” Patrick nodded, all expression wiped from his face.

&
nbsp; His brother understood the risks and the necessity as well as he did. But, as a good second should, he played the part of devil’s advocate well. It was one of his traits Malcolm appreciated most.

  “I am but a tree in a din of spears,” Patrick continued, reverting to the ancient way of speaking. “Yours to use as you will.”

  Malcolm waited until Patrick closed the door behind him before propping his elbows on the table and rubbing his hands over his eyes.

  The kenning his brother had used was not lost on him. A warrior in battle. It was, as it always had been, the perfect description for Patrick.

  Malcolm only hoped that in this quest to save their sister he could prevent his brother from becoming a felled tree in a din of spears.

  When he heard the door open, he assumed Patrick had returned.

  “Do you want to talk about it? Whatever it is that’s causing you such worry?”

  Not Patrick. Danielle.

  “I’ve no worries.” None that he would share with her. She didn’t deserve such a burden.

  “Right.” She pushed the door halfway closed before she crossed the room and seated herself in one of the chairs at the table, propping her arms in front of her and leaning forward to meet his gaze. “Let me guess. You’re a lousy gambler, aren’t you?”

  “Gambler?” He shook his head, in no mood to try to decipher her odd words.

  “Games of chance. For silver. I’m guessing you’re not very successful at it. Am I right?”

  “I do no risk my people’s silver on games of chance.” It was a foolish waste of time.

  “Because you’re not good at it. Am I right?” she asked again.

  “No man is,” he countered, unwilling to admit more.

  She chuckled, a broad smile on her face, and leaned back in her chair. “It’s because you have a tell. Someone would only need to observe you for a little while and they’d figure it out. You telegraph your feelings. I could tell you were worried when I walked into the room.”

  “A tell,” he repeated, lifting his hand to his forehead. He had too much on his mind this day to even attempt to understand her comment.

  “That’s it!” she all but shouted, leaning forward again. “You do that every time you’re bothered. You rub your hands across your face like a man with a headache. You couldn’t send a clearer signal if you climbed up on the table and complained out loud. That’s what you were doing when I walked in. That’s why I asked what was bothering you.”